Hades opened his mouth to respond, but Persephone spoke over him, knowing whatever was on the tip of her husband’s tongue would not be helpful. “That’s exactly what he meant, Hermes,” she said, glaring at Hades as she spoke. “Thank you.”
“At least someone appreciates my help,” Hermes said.
“Fucking Fates,” Hades muttered, rolling his eyes. “Let’s get out of here before those birds regroup.”
They crossed what remained of the shore, heading for the thicket of trees ahead.
“No, no, nope,” Hermes said as they neared. “I am not going in there.”
“Scared, Hermes?” Persephone asked.
“I just ruined my vocal cords to save us from those fucking birds, and you want to wander through their home!”
“The birds don’t live in the trees, Hermes,” said Hades, who had not stopped walking.
Hermes’s frustration vanished suddenly. “Oh,” he said and paused. “Well, where do they live then?”
“In the cliff side,” Hades replied.
“Oh.”
Hermes started to walk again, and Persephone fell into step beside him as they crossed the tree line.
“When did he become such an expert on birds?” Hermes muttered.
Persephone smiled. “I thought you were a warrior, Hermes,” she teased.
“Nature is a different kind of battlefield, Sephy.”
They were not beneath the cover of the trees long when they came to a sheer wall of rock. At first, she thought they were going to have to climb it, but then she noticed a narrow path worn into the side at a slow incline.
Seeing it brought about a deep sense of dread. It seemed too easy, like an invitation to something far more terrible, but she said nothing as they made their way up the cliff, which took them high above the trees, giving them a view of the endless ocean. From here, the world looked so beautiful, and she mourned that it was ruled by someone so terrible.
When they came to the top of the cliff, any feelings she had of admiration vanished, replaced by a sense of unease. It trickled down her spine and made her hair stand on end. She tried to keep from shivering but failed. The wind was colder here too.
Before them, a field stretched for miles. It was barren save for golden spikes sticking out of the ground. They looked like wheat. Far in the distance, on the opposite side of the island, was a great oak, and there, glimmering even in the grayish light, hung the Golden Fleece.
Persephone’s heart rose into her throat. The urge to teleport across the field overwhelmed her. She curled her fingers into fists to keep herself from giving in.
“I know you’re all about this hospitality thing,” said Hermes. “But you could have at least arrived on that side of the island.”
Hades did not respond. He was looking at the ground.
“What is it?” Persephone asked.
“Earthbound warriors,” Hades said.
“You mean the wheat?” she asked.
“That isn’t wheat,” he said. “It is the tip of a spear.”
The tip of a spear, and there were hundreds.
“You mean…they are buried beneath this field?”
“They were sown,” he said. “With dragon’s teeth. They are called Spartoi, the earth-born.”
“Well, how threatening can they be underground?” Hermes asked. He started to bend and touch one of the spears.
“Don’t,” Hades snapped, and Hermes snatched his hand back, holding it to his chest as if he’d been slapped. “If you touch them, you will awaken them and find out just how much of a threat they can be.”
“You could have led with that lifesaving information,” Hermes said, rising to his feet.
“Watch your feet,” Hades said, taking the first step into the field.
Persephone followed. It would have been easier had the warriors been sown in straight lines. Instead, they were staggered, which made crossing far more tedious.
“This is like hopscotch,” Hermes said.
Persephone paused to look at the god, who was jumping from space to space on one leg, then the other.
“Except if you lose, you are speared to death,” said Hades.
The delight that had lit Hermes’s face vanished.
“You ruin everything,” he said.
“Just reminding you of your mortality,” Hades said.
Persephone caught sight of his smirk before he turned his attention back to the field. She also continued, looking up now and then to gauge how long they had until they reached the oak and growing more and more disappointed when it did not seem to be any closer.
“Gods, this is taking forever,” she muttered, and then her stomach rumbled.
“I told you to bring a snack,” said Hermes.
She looked at the god, who was already munching on some kind of granola bar. He reached into his pouch and pulled out a second.
“Here, catch!”
Before she could say anything, the bar was already flying through the air. It hit her chest, and she tried to catch it, but it fell to the ground—right beside one of the golden spears.
“Oh, fuck,” Hermes said. “Did it touch?”
“I don’t know, Hermes,” Persephone snapped. “Why didn’t you just wait?”
“Well, excuse me for sharing!” he said. “I thought you were hungry.”
They were all still and silent for a few minutes, waiting to see what would happen. When nothing did, Persephone finally let herself breathe, but the sound of Hades’s voice put her on edge.
“Persephone,” he said. “Come to me.”
She met his gaze. His expression was dark, and his body was turned fully toward her, his hand outstretched like he was ready to pull her into his arms.
She took one step before a hand shot out of the dirt and clamped down around her ankle, jerking her to the ground. She screamed as terror took root in her body. If she fell, she would be impaled. She teleported out of the creature’s grasp to Hades’s side.
All around them, warriors sprang from the ground, breaking free of their slumber and the earth, fully armored and armed.
Persephone looked at Hades.
“I think I’m over hospitality,” she said.
Just like the warriors who had sprung from the ground, so did her magic. Vines erupted like snakes, slithering around the bodies of the soldiers and their weapons, dragging them back to the earth. Some broke free but were quickly restrained again. The more they struggled, the faster the vines moved until the entire plain was covered in thick, leafy greenery. The spears stuck out of the ground haphazardly.
Hades looked at her, and there was a gleam of pride in his eyes that she loved.
“Nice save, Sephy,” Hermes said as he approached, pulling out another bar from his pack. He started to open it when she snatched it away. “Hey! It’s my last one.”
“I think,” Hades said, “what you meant to say was ‘Thank you for saving my life, Persephone. If it wasn’t for my idiocy, we wouldn’t even have been in that situation to begin with. As a token of my appreciation, here is a snack.’”
Hermes slammed his lips together and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re never on my side,” he said.
Persephone tried not to laugh, but Hades sighed and started across the field, arming himself with a spear as he went. Persephone followed. The ground was now springy under her feet, making it a little harder to walk on. When her stomach growled again, she broke the bar and offered Hermes half.
“Thanks, Sephy,” he said, and then he hesitated. “I am thankful you saved us from my idiocy.”
“I know, Hermes,” she said and smiled at the god.
“You’re a really great friend, Sephy,” he said. “Sometimes I don’t think I deserve—”
His words faltered, and so did Persephone’s steps as the ground began to shift beneath them. There were several crisp snaps as warrior after warrior broke free from her bindings, and before they could flee, they were surrounded.
“Maybe stronger vines next time, Sephy,” said Hermes.
She was already trying to plan her next move when Hades materialized beside them and flung out his hand. Beneath his magic, the warriors turned to dust.
Persephone tilted her head back and looked up at Hades, who was peering down at her.
“Fuck hospitality,” he said, and then they teleported and came to stand before the oak tree where the Golden Fleece hung.
She had known from a distance that the tree would be grand, but nothing could have prepared her for its greatness. The oak was massive, with thick, long-reaching limbs that wound and spiraled, some so heavy they had bowed beneath their own weight and now touched the ground.
But what stunned Persephone was the dragon-like creature whose body was coiled around the base of the tree like a serpent. It was covered in shimmering scales that gleamed like fire. Its eyes were open and unblinking, ever watchful.
Nearby, beneath the fern-covered boughs of the tree, stood Ares.
He was large and imposing, his horns only adding to his dreadful appearance. They were long and sharp, curving behind his head. He wore armor that burned gold and a helm that matched. There was no kindness in his face, only malice.
“You killed my warriors,” said Ares.
“They will be reborn,” said Hades.
Ares’s mouth hardened. “You come to my island uninvited to steal from me,” said the God of War. “And you insult me by harming what is mine.”
“We have not come to steal,” Persephone said, angered by his accusation, though she regretted drawing his furious attention.
“So you have come to ask for a favor? Even worse, traitor goddess.”
“We are not here for ourselves,” Persephone said. “We are here for Harmonia. Aphrodite’s sister is dying.”
At her words, a little bit of Ares’s composure slipped, his angry eyes flashing with concern before he recovered and seemed to dig further into his aggression.
“You lie,” he said, looking at Hades. “I can smell the blood.”
“I did not lie,” Persephone said between her teeth. “Harmonia is dying. The Golden Fleece is the only thing that will save her!”
“And your lover, it seems,” said Ares. “Tell me, why should I help you?”
“Because you have no choice, Ares,” said Hermes. “I have come to collect my favor, one of many, might I add, that you owe me from all the times I saved your ass.”
“As helpful as that would be, I am not inclined to grant it.”
“You would risk divine retribution?” Persephone asked.
“Currently, Hermes is mortal, and by divine law, I am not obligated to uphold a promise made to a traitor.”
Persephone looked at Hades for confirmation of his words, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring darkly at Ares.
“Now you are just being an ass,” said Hermes.
“I have no wish to make the King of the Gods angry and no desire to lose my power,” Ares said.
“Even if it means hurting Aphrodite?” Persephone asked.
Ares was still, and she noticed his throat constrict as he swallowed.
“If you think I won’t tell her you refused, you’re wrong,” Persephone said. “She will hate you forever.”
Ares was quiet, and then he shifted his spear into his other hand.
“Who said you were going back?” Ares asked. Summoning his shield, he teleported.
Hades shifted, knocking Persephone to the ground as Ares appeared before them, stabbing his spear toward Hades’s face.
“Sephy!” Hermes raced toward her, pulling her away from the embroiled gods as she scrambled to her feet.
Hades summoned his bident, thrusting his weapon at Ares, who blocked the blow with his shield. The sound of the weapons meeting was like a lightning strike, and it seemed to rouse the dragon-like creature from its strange, open-eyed slumber. It growled and then rose, slithering higher up the tree, smoke rising from its nostrils and mouth.
Neither Hades nor Ares seemed to notice as they fought. It was hard to track them, they moved so fast, each stab more furious than the last, and while Persephone understood the source of Hades’s rage, she did not understand why Ares had chosen to fight them over aiding Aphrodite and her sister—the one goddess he was said to be closest to, the one who had shown him kindness in the face of the Olympians’ resentment.
Was he seeking the approval of his father? The esteem of other Olympians? Or had he merely been born like this, furious and bloodthirsty, always choosing battle over peace?
As the two fought, Persephone’s attention was drawn to the Golden Fleece and the dragon guarding it. Its eyes were fixed on Hades and Ares, its throat glowing brighter the longer the two struck at each other. It seemed to be biding its time, and Persephone did not want to find out for what.
She summoned her magic, calling to the twisted limbs of the oak the dragon was cradled within. They lengthened and crawled, winding slowly around the slithering serpent until, all at once, the branches closed around it, coiling tight around its deadly mouth. Still it managed a muffled roar as it lurched violently beneath the bindings, its neck now bright white with fire.
Persephone looked at Hermes.
“Get the fleece!” she ordered just as Ares appeared before her, striking her with the face of his shield. The blow made her feel like her entire body had been snapped in two and sent her flying. When she hit the ground, she ceased to breathe, landing in the field, striking the golden spears left behind as she rolled. When she came to a stop, she inhaled violently, healing her broken body as she got to her feet, pain still lancing through her.
Ares came for her again, but this time, his blow was stopped by Hades with a shield that seemed to be made of shadow, only it was solid. The impact of Ares’s attack sent Hades sliding back a few feet. Their weapons clashed again, and Persephone’s vines shot from the ground, gripping Ares’s arms and his spear, but they snapped under his great strength.
“I got it, Sephy! Let’s go!” Hermes yelled.
Her head whipped to the side to see Hermes running with the fleece, and then Ares teleported. Hades and Persephone followed but Ares arrived faster, striking Hermes as he appeared and sending him flying across the island. Hades attacked from above with the intention of slamming his shield down on Ares, but the god teleported behind Hades and drove his spear into his back. Another jerk, and it went through his chest.
Persephone screamed as Hades fell to his knees.
Ares shoved his foot against him, pulling out his spear as Hades hit the ground, following with a kick to the side that sent him onto his back, finishing with a final blow to his existing wound.
It had all happened so fast, Persephone had no time to act—to help her husband. Now she stood opposite them, watching as Ares released his spear, leaving Hades pinned to the ground. Then he turned and picked up Hades’s bident.
“There is nothing more victorious than taking up the weapon of the god you have defeated,” the God of War said, twisting the weapon in his hand.
Persephone’s heart raced, but so did her rage. Her gaze darted to Hades, whose head was turned toward her. His eyes usually held some kind of light—a hint of the life that burned within him—but it was gone.
Her gaze returned to Ares.
“You are despicable,” Persephone spat. The ground beneath her feet began to quake.
If Ares noticed, he did not seem to care. “This is war, little goddess,” he said. “Now, let’s see how you fight.”
Little goddess.
That name only made her more furious.
He took a few steps and then came toward her at a run, thrusting Hades’s bident at her only to drop it and his shield as a branch from his elm stabbed through his back and out of his chest.
Persephone flinched as blood from Ares’s mouth sprayed her face, but she held his gaze, his eyes wide with shock. The only sounds were his choked breathing and the steady spill of his blood as it pooled on the ground.
She considered saying something, but she felt like this all spoke for itself. Ares had become overconfident, and that had made him reckless.
She bent and picked up Hades’s bident. It was heavy, a grounding weight. With a final, hate-filled look at Ares, she went to her husband.
“Hades!” She hurried to his side, dropping the bident and pulling Ares’s spear free before falling to her knees beside him. Tears welled in her eyes and her throat went dry when he didn’t respond. “Hades,” she said again, taking his face between her hands.
His lashes fluttered, and then he opened his eyes. When he saw her, he smiled and she wept, suddenly overwhelmed. She bent and pressed her forehead to his and then her lips, pulling back to meet his gaze, but his eyes were closed again.
“Hades,” Persephone said. “Hades!”
She yanked up his shirt. The wound to his chest had not healed, and the one on his side was far worse, oozing blood and pus.
“No.”
She placed her hands over each, trying to mend them with her own magic, but nothing happened.
Something was wrong. Was the infection preventing him from healing?
“Fuck!” she screamed. She had to find Hermes, but just as she got to her feet, she caught sight of him in the distance. He was running as fast as he could, arms and legs pumping, his cheeks puffing as he breathed, the Golden Fleece gleaming in his hands.
“I got it, Sephy! I’m coming—ah!”
She watched as the god lost his footing and tripped, falling face-first on the ground.
She teleported to him.
“Come on, Hermes,” she said, and when he took her offered hand, she returned to Hades’s side.
“Oh fuck,” said Hermes. “What happened?”
“He isn’t healing at all now,” she said, spreading the fleece over Hades. “Is this how it works?”
“I think so,” Hermes said. “That is how I was able to heal when Ares tossed me across the island. Thank fuck it landed with me.”
They waited and Persephone smoothed her hands over the fleece, her gaze falling on Hades’s face. Her eyes welled with thick tears once more.
“Hades,” she whispered. “Please.” When he didn’t move, she chose anger. “You said you wouldn’t leave my side. You swore an oath.” And then she begged, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “Please, I will do anything. Just don’t leave me.”
She felt him move, and then his fingers tangled in her hair.
“Careful with your offer, darling,” he said. “I might just ask for anything.”
She started to cry harder and then lifted her head and kissed him, reveling in the feel of his breath on her lips.
Then she sat back and dragged the Golden Fleece off him, revealing his perfectly healed wounds.
Hades sat up, his gaze shifting to the still-bloodied tree Persephone had used as a weapon against Ares. The God of War had fled just as Hecate had predicted.
“Let’s heal Harmonia,” Persephone said.
This time, it was her magic that surrounded them and carried them home to the Underworld.
CHAPTER XXIII
HADES
Hades followed Persephone into the queen’s suite where Harmonia lay near death, clinging to life by a frayed thread. He had sensed the change in her before they left but hoped the Fates would let her live for as long as possible. They did not like when their chosen allotment and destiny were disrupted, which was likely why she’d held on this long, but even they would not stop a thread from snapping if the soul decided it was time.
It was the only mercy they ever granted.
He did not approach the bed with Persephone, choosing to stand apart from the others, watching as Sybil, Leuce, and Aphrodite shooed Opal off the bed and pulled the blankets back, allowing Persephone to lay the Golden Fleece over Harmonia. They all silently waited for its power to take effect.
Hades had been able to feel it, a warmth that seeped deep into his skin. In truth, he felt better than he ever had, even before his imprisonment in the labyrinth. He hoped the same would be true for Harmonia.
“She’s taking deeper breaths,” Sybil said, voice rising with hope. She leaned over her, smoothing her hair. “Harmonia, we love you. So much.”
The color returned to Harmonia’s face and lips, and then she stirred, and suddenly, everyone burst into tears.
When Harmonia opened her eyes, she frowned. “Why is everyone crying?”
Her question was followed by a round of harder tears and laughter and Opal yipping and chasing her tail.
Hades’s gaze shifted to Hecate as the goddess approached.
“The fleece was not easy to obtain, was it?” she asked.
“I did not expect it to be easy,” said Hades. “But I have to admit, I thought Ares would be more moved by Aphrodite’s plight.”
“Few among the gods have any love for Ares and his violence,” said Hecate. “He likely saw an opportunity to gain his father’s favor.”
And in the process, he’d sacrificed the friendship of the only goddess who had ever offered him kindness.
“I do not know how he will retaliate,” said Hades. “It was Persephone who ended his bloodlust.”
“He will likely wait for the battlefield,” said Hecate. “He will want her distracted, given that he has lost to her one-on-one.”
Though he had already targeted her during battle before.
“Aphrodite will be devastated,” Hades said in a low voice.
“She will,” said Hecate. “But it will give way to her rage, and that is the level of power we need right now.” They exchanged a look. “It will not be long now,” she said. “Once the first blow is struck before mankind, the war for dominion over Earth begins.”
That was what Zeus and his loyalists failed to understand. This was not just another attempt to overthrow the King of the Gods. It had become more than a fight for a single throne. It was a fight for every throne on Olympus, a fight for worship from a population that had been shown the neglect of the gods, and Hades feared that by the time they realized it, it would be too late.
“Enjoy tonight,” said Hecate. “It may be the last you have alone for quite some time.”
She left his side, and Persephone approached, her eyes swallowed by darkness. Her face was flushed, and he could feel that same warmth in the pit of his stomach.
They left, teleporting to their chamber.
Their gazes held, and so did the distance between them.
Hades could feel the tension building. It tightened every muscle in his body and thickened his cock.
“I have no intention to rest, no desire to sleep,” he said. “I want to spend every second making up for each day I was absent from you.”
His words were met with a pleasing shiver. It made her nipples hard beneath her shirt.
“Then why are you wasting precious time talking?”
His lips twitched.
Spoken like a true queen.
And then there was suddenly no space between them as they came together, their mouths colliding. Hades drove her back into the post of the bed, gripping her hard as he ground into her, the friction sending a dizzying thrill straight to his head.
He smoothed his hands over her ass and then dragged her up his body, and as she twined her legs around his waist, he carried her to bed where he kissed her harder and deeper, until his lungs burned from drowning in her.
Only then did he move on, trailing his lips along her jaw and neck, pulling up her shirt for access to her breasts, which he lavished with his tongue while she raked her fingers through his hair until it was free from its tie.
As he made his way down her stomach, Persephone started to shimmy out of her jeans, and Hades chuckled.
“Always eager,” he muttered as he helped, stripping the jeans from her legs.
He took a moment to appreciate the way she looked before him—body flushed and open, her sex already wet, soon to be full of his come.
“Hades,” Persephone whispered his name, a note of worry in her tone.
He met her gaze, and he thought that she had never looked more beautiful—more his. The vibrant green of her eyes was swallowed by the darkness of her pupils, filled with a desire for him. Her lips were swollen from their kiss, her skin marked by his mouth.
“I want you to feel me inside you for weeks after this night,” he said. “When you are on the battlefield, this is what you will fight for, the pleasure of being beneath me again.”
Her eyes narrowed. He could not tell if she liked his words, but then she sat up and her mouth was level with his cock, which pressed, thick and heavy, against the rough material of his pants.
“And what will you fight for, King of the Underworld?” she asked.
Despite the layer between them, he could feel the warmth of her breath on him, and it made him regret that he was still clothed.